


The Mountain

by Area_Monarch



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Clexa is the focus, F/F, and probably some other ships, background Octavia/Lincoln
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-03-17 07:45:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3521141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Area_Monarch/pseuds/Area_Monarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin has lived her entire life inside Mount Weather. Any life outside it was inconceivable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Assignments

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how often I'll update this, but I just thought of this in my class and missed half my notes while scribbling it down, so I figured I should post it and see what you guys think.

They were dying. Breaches popped up monthly, diverting resources and at times taking lives.

The poisonous air from the outside cocooned the Mountain, trapping its inhabitants. 

One hundred couples were selected for Project Prometheus, proposed by Dante Wallis nearly twenty years into his presidency, when his ten year old son had been burned by radiation in a breach. The story goes that it took two months, even with the Treatments, before Cage was able to leave the infirmary. 

They'd been collecting Outsiders, or "Grounders" as the new generation called them, for decades. Their blood was the only thing that kept the crippled Mountain alive.

But the Treatments were short term. If they were to survive, those within Mount Weather would have to be able to leave their bunker. They would have to reclaim their birthright.

And so one hundred couples were chosen. One hundred children. It was proposed at first to integrate the Grounders into the gene pool, but even the youngest captured were never civil enough to be accepted, or to live in peace. And so the inheritance was created artificially. One hundred women were inseminated, and their children were given the gift of immunity.

Monthly, of course, they would be exposed to slowly increasing levels, in an effort to maintain the resistance. If, in the end, the children were able to leave the Mountain and survive on the ground, the remaining Mount Weather civilians would follow their example and breed the new generation towards the Ground. 

\---

Clarke groaned as the alarm blared in her ear.

She'd graduated Training last week, and today was the first day she would be apprenticed under Doctor Tsing.

Her mother had seemed upset when she'd chosen to work in the labs instead of the general infirmary, but Clarke was firm in her choice.

The photo beside her bed gave her pause as she finally pulled herself out of the cot.

Her father smiled at her through the wall of glass, his carefree expression caught in time.

Shaking her head, she forced herself to leave those thoughts behind. The man had died three months ago. Her mourning period had passed.

Dressing quickly, she tried to prepare herself for her first day. Doctor Tsing was... intense. The Mountain was small, and Clarke had grown up around the woman due to her monthly Rad exposures, but she'd never felt comfortable around her.

Grabbing her keycard, Clarke made her way out, moving quickly towards the laboratory.

Tsing was there, scribbling away in her notebook.

"You're early," she said, not looking up. "Give me a second."

Clarke stood awkwardly as the woman finished up her thought, before she stood and strode over to her.

"There were four people who applied for this position," was the first thing she said. "And one of them apparently misinterpreted the parameters of the job. Before I fully accept you as my intern, I need to know why you're here." A pause. "I need to be sure your _father_ isn't a part of it."

Clarke flinched at the mention of the man, but replied immediately. "I have medical training," she explained quickly. "So there were only two options for me. At least in this job I have a chance of doing more than putting band aids on scratched knees."

The woman's lip twitched towards a smile, but her face was stoic. "This work is... unpleasant. For most."

"I might not share my father's convictions," Clarke said slowly. "But I agree with him on one thing. Hiding from a hard truth doesn't save you from it."

The answer seemed to appease the doctor, as she nodded and turned away. "The Cerberus' are rarely gentle in their collection," she said. "And it's more efficient to keep the Outsiders alive as long as we can. I have research to focus on, so I'm leaving you to care for their wounds. Don't waste too many resources. Lockhart will accompany you. He'll sedate the Outsider, remove them and secure them. You will tend to their wounds. It's a simple job. If you have a problem, ask me. If you change your mind... there are two others who are willing to replace you. I'm sure your mother would be happy to accept you in the infirmary." 

The last sentence was almost a challenge, and Clarke forced herself not to rise to it.

"When do I begin?" she asked instead.

A knock at the door interrupted them and Lockhart strode in, smiling at her.

"Right now. A batch came in yesterday, and I've already sorted them. I need you to make sure their wounds aren't untreatable. Make a note on their charts. The ones with more severe injuries will be bled first. We've got to make use of them while we can," she explained.

Lockhart led her out of the labs, and the two walked quietly towards the Harvest chamber.

"Your mom asked about you," he said, breaking the silence. "Jake had a cough, so I was there all night." Clarke smiled despite herself at the thought of the guard's son. "She wanted me to ask how you were. Said you weren't talking to her."

"I'm not ignoring her," Clarke argued weakly. "I just... She's not going to accept my choice, and I need to prepare myself before I can deal with her disappointment."

He guard nodded, and they fell into a comfortable silence until they reached the Harvest chamber. 

There hadn't been a breach in a few weeks, so there were no Grounders being bled. The cages, however, were full, and the people inside them were moving sluggishly to try and see the new arrivals.

"The new batch is in the back. Follow me," Lockhart said, pressing a hand on his gun and striding through the rows.

Past the initial cages, a circular tower held hundreds of Grounders, each at varying stages of bleeding. From what Clarke had read of her manual, Grounders lasted about three months before the bloodletting finally caused them to expire. After that happened, they'd be sent down a chute for the Cerberus' to deal with.

Lockhart led her out of the main Harvest chamber and into a smaller room that held about twenty cages. Ten of them were inhabited.

"Which one do you want first?"

Clarke took a deep breath and strode forward, trying to examine each of the prisoners with a medical, impassive eye.

Six of them were fine. Their wounds were superficial at most. One had a broken arm, but it wouldn't interfere with their blood production. Two had wounds on their necks which Clarke would need to look at, and the last was closer to death than she was to life.

Immediately, she nodded to the cage. "This one," she said.

Lockhart looked dubiously at the prisoner. "She doesn't look like she'd survive a single donation," he said.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had medical training," Clarke snapped, immediately regretting it. "I... Sorry. Just... It looks bad, but I think I can sa--fix her." _Save_. She wouldn't be saved. Clarke cursed herself for the slip. The Grounder would be _preserved_.

"Fine," the guard finally said, reaching into her jacket and retrieving a syringe. "But don't waste too many resources. Tsing will kill me. Then kill you."

Clarke swallowed, but nodded, keeping her eyes on the Grounder. 

She was young. Brunette. Her right arm had a tattoo, but otherwise she was untarnished. Ignoring, of course, the semi-gaping wound in her abdomen.

Lockhart gave the already-unconscious girl a sedative before unlocking the cage and lifting her out.

"There's an operating room for the worse off ones," he said, his lip twisting. " _Usually_ we just bleed them and dump them when they're this bad."

"Wasting a renewable resource is a waste," Clarke pointed out, unsure as to why she was so annoyed.

Lockhart smiled slightly. Sadly. He deposited the girl on the table, strapped her in, and left. "Call me in when you're done," he said.

Clarke nodded absently, already moving to examine the wound.

\---

Octavia smirked as Bellamy, for the third time that day, polished his nameplate.

" _God_ Bell, you're worse than a kid with a new toy."

Her twin chuckled. "You're just jealous that I was assigned to President Wallis, and you got thrown on his son's monster building crew."

"Alright, first of all, that 'monster building crew' is the only reason we can survive," Octavia said defensively. 

"I'm kidding," Bell laughed, ruffling her hair. "Come on, I'm proud of you. Not a lot of recruits get placed there. It's even more selective than Wallis' guard detail."

The girl snorted at his obvious attempt to appease her, but didn't force the issue. "Have you talked to Clarke, yet?"

His smirk fell at the mention of his ex, and Bellamy shook his head. "Not for a few days. I saw her at dinner, and she said she was going to be prepping for her new assignment."

"I can't believe she applied to the Harvest chamber," Octavia said, her nose curling in distaste. "I mean, making the Cerberus' is bad enough, but having to deal with the Grounders one-on-one?"

"They're unconscious most of the time," Bell said, rolling his eyes. "It's what she wants."

"Blake!" a voice called from the end of the hall. Both guards in question straightened immediately, their hands lacing behind their backs and their spines stiff.

Emerson strode forward, glancing between them. Turning to Bell, he said, "Your shift with the president starts in ten minutes, Blake."

"Yes, Sir," he said, nodding sharply. Without a glance at his sister, he strode down the hall towards the president's office.

Emerson turned to Octavia. "Cage's team is headed down to the Cerberus cells. He wanted me to tell you that your initiation will take place there."

"Yes, Sir," she said. 

Once Emerson was satisfied, he turned and made his way towards the mess hall.

Sighing slightly, Octavia's lip twisted. The monster-makers were hardly where she wanted to be. She'd dreamed of going to the surface, but as a member of the Hundred, that was never even considered.

Instead, she was thrown in the cellar to play with beasts.

Swallowing a groan, she made her way down to the cells, mentally kicking whoever assigned her to the Cerberus program.


	2. Grounders

Once Lockhart had left, Clarke began to prod the wound, trying to determine the extent of internal damage.

There were no nicks to any of the organs, and the bleeding, miraculously, wasn't terrible. The wound itself was about two inches long, from some ragged blade. She did the best she could to stitch the ends together as neatly as she could.

Clarke was ten minutes into sewing the flesh together before she realized a pair of eyes fixed on her.

The Grounder's gaze was unwavering. Coherent. Clearly, the sedatives had worn off.

"I'm almost done," Clarke said, not quite sure if the girl could understand her. There were a few Outsiders who would mumble in English after they'd been sedated, but she'd never actually seen one... awake, before. "Do you want a sedative?" she motioned towards the wound.

The girl's eyes flew down to the injury, and the neat line of stitches that decorated her abdomen. Residing there only for a moment, the stare moved about the room, cataloging everything. 

"You are a Mountain Man," she said roughly. 

Clarke blinked at the phrase.

The Grounder jerked in her restraints suddenly, her glare intensifying. "Murderers," she hissed.

Clarke glanced away, moving towards where the sedatives were housed.

"Why are you doing this," the Grounder growled, almost to herself. "Why are you taking my people?"

The blonde's hands shook as she filled a syringe with the liquid.

"Why do the Reapers follow you? What have you done to my people?"

By the time Clarke found a vein, her hands were quivering too much to inject the needle.

"Why?" she asked again, sharper. Harsher. Demanding.

Clarke glared at her, finally choosing to respond. Her hands steadied just enough to press the needle into the flesh, pushing the plunger quickly. "We have no choice," she hissed. "We have to survive."

She watched as the heat in the Grounder's gaze faded into delirium, then closed. She watched as her breathing lengthened into long, slow raises of her chest.

She finished sewing the wound and called Lockhart in to transfer her back to a cage.

"She'll need a few days of rest," she lied. "Keep her in here. The others should be alright to transfer into the Harvest chamber."

Watching Lockhart throw the girl into the cage haphazardly, Clarke felt her chest constrict.

She'd never been looked at with such contempt before. She'd never felt such shame. Her father's convictions flooded her mind, and it took all her effort to disregard them.

Survival was paramount. They needed the blood of the Outsiders. And they weren't likely to give it up willingly.

Lockhart was already moving one of the other injured prisoners into the operation room, locking him into the table. Taking a deep breath, she turned away from the Grounder girl and went about her job.

\---

Octavia had never been into the Pit, as the others liked to call it. It was where the Grounders chosen for the Cerberus program were located. She strode as confidently as she could past the doors filled with screams and grunts and howls so inhuman her skin crawled.

As she got further down the hall, each door began to be accompanied by a guard. She saw a few instances of guards inside the rooms. A few of them checking the small windows every few minutes. She assumed it was based on the danger or potential the Grounder held.

Finally, a door at the end of the hall, flanked by two guards and titled "Operations" greeted her.

"Cage is inside," one of the guards grunted, recognizing her. "The other recruits are already there."

Flushing, she strode in quietly, hoping not to garner much attention.

Cage Wallis glanced at her, scowled, but didn't say anything.

"As I was saying," he said, his conceited tone weighing down on her as she stood next to the six other recruits. "Until Doctor Tsing or one of her interns comes and checks out the Outsiders, we don't know if they're fit to take the Red, yet. We learned with the first few batches that injuries or illnesses can cause the drug to kill them immediately. If we give them a week or so to recuperate, we can cut those odds down drastically, and we don't want to waste any of the drug, or the effort required to bring them here. As a result, we need a guard on all incoming Outsiders until we inject them."

He continued his monologue for a few minutes, drilling into them their duties, a few choice warnings, and the matter of confidentiality.

"The people above don't need to worry about what goes on down here," he said grimly. "We're a monster building team. They know that. But they don't need to know how. Keep it that way."

They were given their assignments, then told to leave.

"You, Blake," one of the guards said as she left in search of her position. "I'll come with you. Your guy is a piece of work. I'm Samuel."

She nodded slowly, not quite certain to make of the offer. She'd be standing outside the room of a bound man, it wasn't like she was getting into a fist fight with him.

The guard at the door left once she relieved him, and Samuel flanked the door beside her, leaning against the frame and smirking at her. "So, why'd you join the Guard?"

Octavia rolled her eyes. "My brother did," she said shortly. 

"Bellamy, right?" At her raised eyebrow, he chuckled. "Everyone knows about the 100, babe."

Rolling her eyes, she nodded. "Yeah."

"There were only two sets of twins," he continued. "And the first both died from the first dose of radiation."

"Did you take a class on us, or something?" O muttered.

Samuel took it to be a joke and laughed. "No, it's just interesting. You guys are the hope for the future, after all. Hope that humans will walk on the ground again."

Octavia resisted the urge to look inside the room. To point out that humans were already on the Ground. She flexed her jaw.

They weren't human. The Grounders were monsters.

From inside the room, a howling scream tore through the air.

Samuel smirked. "Want to go see him?" At Octavia's incredulous look, he laughed. "It's perfectly safe. He's strapped to a table. Couldn't move a finger if he wanted to."

Curiosity won over reason, and O found herself nodding.

Sam's smirk grew as he turned to open the door.

The Outsider was huge.

His torso was bare, exposing a toned chest covered in markings and scars. His head was shaved neatly, save for an inch-wide strip down the center. His eyes glared at them as he clenched his jaw.

"We're pretty sure they speak English," Samuel said, striding towards the table confidently. "At least, most of them." He drew his sidearm and pressed it into the Outsider's cheek.

The restrained man glared at him, not moving, clearly aware of the weapon's ability.

"What about you?" Samuel goaded. "Do you understand English?"

" _Branwada_ ," he snapped, spitting towards Samuel's face.

The guard lurched back, crying out in shock before moving to slam his gun into the Outsider's face.

"Stop!" Octavia said, moving forward to stop the assault.

Samuel glared at the Grounder, but nodded. "He'll regret that when he gets the Red," he snarled. 

After a few moments, Samuel calmed himself. "I have to go," he said, not taking his eyes off the prisoner. "I have a few reports. Doctor Tsing should be here soon to declare him fit." There was a pause. "Then you'll get to see how monsters are made."

Settling into a smirk, the man retreated, leaving Octavia alone with the Outsider.

She considered leaving, standing guard outside. But there was still a nagging, persistent curiosity that needed to be quenched. And this might be her only chance to _speak_ with a Grounder.

"What does _branwada_ mean?" she asked.

The man grit his teeth, refusing to answer.

"I know you can understand me," she said, rolling her eyes. "Samuel might not be able to read people, but I'm pretty good at it."

He glanced at her, glare firmly in place. "It's an insult," he muttered quietly. His tone was almost... embarrassed.

Octavia smiled slightly. "An insult loses its purpose when they don't know what it means," she noted.

He snorted.

"So what does it mean?" she insisted.

"It means 'worthless'," he muttered.

She smiled, delighted at the answer. "What's your name?"

He glanced at her, frowning. "Is this an interrogation?"

Octavia rolled her eyes. "No. I'm curious. I've never met an Outsider before."

He looked at her, frowning. "You murder my people," he said, "And you expect me to give in to your whims?"

The girl looked down, abashed. "We don't have a choice," she began uneasily. "We do what we have to in order to survive." The words were a mantra. Repeated to her, and by her, daily. 

"You are monsters," he snapped, gnashing his teeth as he struggled against his restraints.

Octavia jumped, retreating to the door. She cast a look back, her heart beating in terror at the rage in the man's eyes.

\---

Doctor Tsing was busy in her lab when Clarke returned from seeing to the Grounders. 

The woman barely glanced up when she entered. "Cage Wallis has a new batch of Outsiders for the Cerberus program," she said, scribbling notes in her book. "I'm busy right now, so I need you to go and declare them fit or unfit." Finally, her eyes left the pages in front of her. "It's not very difficult. Look for any obvious injuries or illnesses. If they have none, they're fit. If they can be healed within two weeks, they are unfit. If they take long than that, they're defective, and they'll be taken back to the Harvest Chamber. Can you handle it?"

Clarke nodded, eager for a chance to prove herself to the stoic woman.

Tsing nodded, eyes lingering strangely on the blonde before returning to her work. "Cage is expecting you. Do you know your way?"

Clarke voiced the affirmative, and turned to leave. 

Tsing might have been brilliant, but she was hardly a conversationalist.

The walk down to the Pit was eerie. Screams and cries and inhuman noises voiced from each of the rooms. A few guards looked up from their posts, intrigued by the new face.

Cage met her halfway down the hall. An oily grin spread across his face as he said, "Clarke! It's been too long. Doctor Tsing told me you'd be doing the examinations from now on."

Clarke blinked, surprised at that news, but nodded.

"Good, good. Well, All the rooms past Edgar over there," he pointed to a tall, bland man who barely glanced her way when his name was mentioned. "They'll need to be checked. Each Outsider has a guard, who will escort you in and remain present during the exam. They should all know the drill, except for a few new recruits. Don't be afraid to sedate the wild ones." He cast a lingering look at Clarke, his smile widening. "If you have any questions, let me know."

Clarke nodded, eager to be away from him. Cage was a good man, most of the time, but he always made Clarke uneasy. 

The examinations were... eventful. While the Grounders were retrained, they still managed to claw or bite when she got too close. She'd had to sedate three by the time she saw Octavia.

The girl was leaning against the wall beside her door, her face troubled.

"O!" Clarke called, grinning.

Octavia jumped, looking over to her in shock. "Clarke? Why are you down here?"

"Doctor Tsing ordered me to do the exams on all the Cerberus candidates. I see you've already got orders."

Again, the uneasy look cast over the girl's face.

Clarke frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Just... Something the Grounder said," she muttered.

Clarke's thoughts flew to the Outsider girl she'd healed, but she forced the thought away. "Don't listen to them. They'll say anything. Come on, let's see how your guy is."

The man was huge. Clarke was a little startled when she strode through the door, Octavia trailing behind.

"I'm going to examine you," the blonde began, earning a hard look from the prisoner. "If you struggle, I will sedate you."

"She'll put you to sleep," Octavia cut in, reading a confusion that Clarke hadn't noticed from the man.

Clarke moved forward slowly, trying to gauge the reaction from him. As soon as her arm was within distance, his own shot up from the restraints, as far as they could, crushing her wrist tightly.

Octavia jumped, trying to pry the digits apart, but to no avail.

Clarke reached into her lab coat's pocket with her free hard, drawing out a needle and pressing it into his skin. 

Within moments, his grip relaxed. Clarke let out a sigh, flexing her hand. Nothing was broken, but it would bruise. 

"I'm sorry," Octavia said, eyes wide.

Clarke shook her head. "Not the first time it's happened today," she said, smiling slightly.

The exam was quick. The man was in prime condition, as far as she could tell.

"How is he?" Octavia asked hesitantly once it was over.

"He's good," Clarke replied. "Very strong." As she was about to check 'fit' on his chart, the brunette grabbed her hand. "What's wrong?"

Octavia swallowed nervously. "Can you... Can you declare him unfit? Just for now?"

Clarke frowned, confused. "Why?"

"Just... Just as a favor to me. Please."

Clarke shifted. "I know the first one isn't easy," she said, trying to comfort her friend. "But it has to be done."

"I know," Octavia snapped. "Just... Just for a little while. I want to learn about the outside. And I can't do that if he's foaming at the mouth."

Clarke sighed. "If I get in trouble, you owe me," she warned, but couldn't help the smile that spread across her face as Octavia hugged her.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Clarke nodded, checking the 'unfit' box. "And I want your dessert for a week," she warned, narrowing her eyes playfully.

"Deal," O laughed. "I'll even steal Bel's from him for you."

Clarke chuckled. "Come on. I have about ten more of these guys to go, and you have a door to stand beside."

Her clipboard felt heavy in her hand as she moved to the next candidate. Twice. Two Outsiders she'd kept from the system.

Her father's convictions rang through her head, and she shoved them away. She wasn't like him. She wasn't a traitor. She's allowed herself a few moments of weakness, but no more.

The remaining Grounders were all checked 'fit'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long, I've had a busy few weeks. I'll try to remain loyal to my schedule now, though :)
> 
> As always, tell me what you think, or send me some prompts :)


	3. Secrets

The following day, Clarke reported to Tsing's lab ten minutes early, eager to prove herself to the woman.

As usual, the doctor was pouring over paperwork, occasionally making scribbles or marks.

"Doctor?" Clarke asked quietly, hoping not to disturb her.

Tsing jumped, turning towards the doorway where Clarke stood.

"I didn't hear you come in," she said, standing. The woman reached behind her and began to cover the papers with other materials. "Lockhart said you did a good job with the Outsiders. And Cage said you got done with the Cerberus' early."

Clarke looked down, flushing at the praise. "Is there anything you need me to do now?" she asked, deflecting.

The woman smiled and stepped forward. "Yes. A blood sample."

Clarke frowned, tilting her head. "From who?"

"You." At the blonde's stunned face, the doctor continued. "It's protocol for lab-based citizens. To make sure we don't have any Outsider diseases. I'd take a sample from the files, but they're from before you started working down here."

Clarke nodded, rolling up her sleeve. "Of course."

Once a few vials were taken--five, to be precise--Tsing labeled them and set them aside.

"Thank you. Go see to the Outsider you set aside yesterday. Make sure their wounds are healing alright. If they aren't, just put them on the first rotation to be drained."

Clarke swallowed, but nodded, any lingering dizziness from the bleeding fleeing by the cold shock of the order.

"Of course," she whispered, leaving quickly.

The walk through the Harvest Chamber made her shiver. The quiet moans... The outreaching hands... The blank eyes, so drugged they seemed bovine.

Finally, she reached the processing room where the Outsider she'd set aside was housed, shutting the door firmly. Closing out the gentle, persistent guilt that waited behind it.

The girl was shifting, but her movements were anything but elegant. Every time she tried to right herself, she teetered forward.

Clarke stepped forward slowly, suddenly regretting not calling Lockhart.

Hoping to rectify the lack of thought, she reached for her radio hanging from her belt, but stopped when she heard whispers.

"Costia?" the girl mumbled, looking at Clarke through her eyelashes. Her eyebrows furrowed and the girl whimpered, "Where is Costia?"

"She isn't here," Clarke whispered quietly, not understanding why she spoke at all.

Lexa's hand reached through the gap in her cage, dangling limp for a moment. Her eyes gained some clarity, despite the abundance of drugs filling her blood. Her hand rose, as if to caress Clarke's head. But they were feet apart, and the energy required soon became too much, and the limb fell again. "Where is she?" The voice was weak. Childlike.

Clarke flinched. "I don't know," she whispered. "I... I have to go."

Fleeing, she made a point of ignoring the Outsiders and cages flanking her as she moved through the Chamber.

Lockhart in the mess hall, laughing with a few other guards as they took their breaks.

Bellamy, among them, grinned as she approached. "Hey, Clarke," he said, smirking. "How's the Bleeding pit?"

"Don't call it that," another guard, whose name escaped the girl at the moment, whispered. He looked down, not meeting anyone's gaze.

"Lighten up, Freddy," Bell said, rolling his eyes.

Clarke smiled thinly. "Lockhart, I need your help with something," she said quietly.

"You could have called on the radio instead of coming all the way up here," the guard in question said, smiling.

She glanced down at her radio, frowning. "I guess I forgot."

He laughed, excusing himself from the group and following her towards the Chamber.

When they returned, Lexa was fully coherent. She was crouched in her cell like an animal, eyes following their movements keenly.

"You want to grab me a sedative?" Lockhart asked, lip curled distastefully. 

Clarke hesitated for a moment, but nodded, moving towards the syringes and filling one with a mild sedative.

Lockhart approached the cage a firm glare in place. "Give me your hand," he ordered. "Or I will restrain you. You won't like that."

The girl's eyes seemed to flow with mirth at the thought, but the sentiment was quickly replaced with anger.

"Just start jabbing her with it," Lockhart suggested, lip curling in a snarl.

"It needs to hit a vein," Clarke explained, frowning at the animosity the guard was expressing.

Suddenly, a hand reached through the gap of the cage slowly, hand opened outward.

Lockhart looked at it in shock, but reached for it, grabbing the wrist tightly to keep it from moving. "Stick her."

Clarke stepped forward, reaching for the tanned skin, searching for a vein.

As she turned to glance at the girl, she flinched in shock at the Outsider worked her mouth and let out a dollop of spittle, smirking as it landed on Clarke's cheek, trailing downwards.

Lockhart pushed the blonde away protectively, growling, "You're going to regret that."

His grip on the girl grew harsher until an audible _crack_ radiated through the room.

Clarke jumped forward, pulling him away. "Get out until you can control yourself," she snarled, shoving him out of the door.

Behind her, the girl snaked her wrist back through the cage wall, pressing it to herself, but maintaining the superior smirk.

Clarke twisted her lip distastefully, considering her options. "This is what we're going to do," she said after a moment. "Your wrist needs to be wrapped, or maybe a splint. If I don't do that, it will heal wrong, and you might not be able to use it."

The Outsider looked at her blankly, so Clarke sighed. She moved around the cage, grabbing a chair and the materials she needed, moving all of them so that she could sit in front of the cage, the girl's body eye level to her. "I'm going to sit right here until you let me see your arm. I won't hurt you."

They sat there for what seemed like hours. She half expected Lockhart to come in after ten minutes passed, if only to make sure she hadn't been strangled.

The Grounder looked at her, her eyes assessing, considering.

After what seemed like forever, the hand uncurled itself from her side, reaching through the gaps in her cage and hovering in front of Clarke.

The blonde didn't smile, afraid that it might end this act. Instead, she set out to work immediately, prodding the flesh gently. "Tell me if it hurts."

After a few moments of prodding, she realized a sheen of sweat was breaking out over her silent patient's face. Rolling her eyes, she said, "I can't help you if you don't answer my questions."

Returning to the middle of her forearm, Clarke began to gently move her fingers down again.

"There," the girl grunted. "There is where it hurts."

Satisfied but not showing it, Clarke began to wind the bandage around the limb. "It isn't broken," she said. "But it's going to take a while to heal. Try not to hit it against anything."

"Like your friends' face?" the girl muttered quietly.

Clarke smiled faintly. "Yes, try to avoid punching the guards."

They lapsed back into silence.

"What are you doing to my people?" the girl whispered after a moment.

Clarke's smile fell immediately, her hands freezing where they were on her patient's wrist.

"You said you need to kill us to survive. How?"

It occurs to her that the girl hasn't seen the Harvest Chamber. Or, at least, hasn't been conscious there.

"My people can't survive on the surface," Clarke explained quietly. "We need your people's blood to heal ourselves."

"Why?"

"Your people developed an immunity to radiation," Clarke said. "We didn't."

"So you survive by murdering my people? By stealing us away and turning us into monsters who eat human flesh?"

The girl wrest her hand back through the cage, glaring.

"What do you expect us to do?" Clarke snarled. "Die?"

"Yes," she snapped. Clarke recoiled at the bluntness. "As mine have done."

Clarke shook her head, biting her lip. "My people deserve to live," she said quietly. "I'm sorry that means yours have to die."

She stood, moving towards the desk and grabbing a clipboard. "You're healthy, now. Nothing that will affect you in the long term. How is your wound?"

"Hurts," the Grounder snapped sarcastically.

Clarke rolled her eyes. "There's no fresh blood on the bandage. It wasn't that deep of a wound. You'll go into the Harvest Chamber tomorrow."

The girl's eyes followed her as she began to replace the materials she's gathered for her wrist. 

"I will relish the day when I walk atop your bones," Clarke heard the girl whisper.

"You aren't going to be walking anywhere," Clarke shot back, avoiding her gaze. "No one escapes Mount Weather alive."

The girl smirked, her gaze so superior it made Clarke's stomach twist. "Don't you know, Clarke? Death is not the end."

Setting down the clipboard quickly, Clarke rushed out the door, suddenly unable to occupy the same space as the Outsider.

Resolved to deliver the news to Tsing, Clarke was confused that, when she entered, the doctor was not alone.

Cage stood quickly, stepping front of the doctor to confront the newcomer.

"Clarke, right?" he asked, nervousness fading into his easy grin. "I'm sure you and your boss need to chat. Tsing, I'll be back tomorrow. I'll send someone for the paperwork."

Casting a glance at Clarke, he moved past her quickly.

"The Cerberus in the field are due back any day," Tsing said once Cage had left. "You'll accompany me to see how categorizing them works."

Clarke nodded, trying not to let her mind wander. 

Trying not to think of the Grounder girl. Of Cage and Tsing. Or Octavia and that damned Outsider.

She would focus on her world. That was what was needed, at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There y'all are. Just a warning: I'm 90% sure I'll be having a trigger-worth segment in the next chapter, so be assured you will be thoroughly warned of it in advanced, and I'll be sure to mark off the area that is not at all essential to the plot. If you don't think you can read the chapter because you're worried, just send me a message on Tumblr (not anon please) after I post it and we can work something out. 
> 
> Like I said 90% sure, so I might end up changing my mind.
> 
> Just thought I would warn everyone, because I'm not really sure how other authors handle this shiz. 
> 
> Yup, that's all. See you guys later :3


	4. Heda

The Cerberus' had returned only a few minutes person Tsing barged into Clarke's one bedroom apartment.

AT the time, she hadn't frowned at the invasion of privacy, but as they swiftly strode down the hall, Clarke idly wondered how the doctor had gotten into her normally locked estate. _I must have forgotten to lock it last night,_ she thought. Most nights she did so merely to keep the damned broken knob from flying open and letting out her heat. It wasn't as if she had anything to fear from her fellow residents.

Tsing began to garb herself immediately in the rad suit, casting a hesitant glance towards Clarke.

"A few more years, and maybe you won't even need one," she doctor said.

Clarke smiled hesitantly, donning the suit herself. Every Mount Weather citizen had a different reaction to her and the Hundred's resistance to radiation. Some were in awe. Some excited. A lot were viciously jealous. IT was always a gamble when someone commented on her status.

Treading outside, Clarke felt her heartbeat quicken.

She'd never left the compound. Even when they were exposing her and the others to increasing levels of radiation, they'd been within a secure room at the heart of the mountain.

The crunch of earth under her feet made her mouth twitch toward a smile.

The feature fell immediately when she caught sight of the eight figures bound, beaten, and bloodied kneeling before them.

Four guards spread out around her, immediately immobilizing the Cerberus behind the captives. The two remaining aimed their rifles at the kneeling Grounders.

She tried not to watch as the four guards threw the Cerberus to the ground and pressed a needle with a red liquid to their necks. Tried not to listen to their moans as they fell to the ground in ecstasy. 

"They sound like animals, don't they," Tsing mused beside her.

 _Because we've made them that way._

The voice sounded suspiciously like her father's calm, wise tone. 

He'd lead the movement to stop the harvests. He'd nearly killed everyone in the events that followed. Clarke refused to heed his words.

Moving behind Tsing, she watched as the doctor began to observe the new captives.

"Clarke," she called, turning. "I'll do the first few, then you take over. This one is skinny. He has muscle, but it's lean. The Cerberus are berserkers. They need to be large. We mark him for harvest." Clarke nodded shakily, trying to avoid the man in question as he glared at her.

They went down the line, eventually letting Clarke sort them. Two were sent to Cage. The rest went to the Harvest Chamber.

"Go with them," Tsing motioned to the Cerberus recruits. "You'll be in charge of their health evaluations."

Clarke nodded, walking along the secondary corridor that was reserved for incoming Cerberus. Three guards escorted them, moving quickly but cautiously.

Clarke understood the need for security measures, but in all honesty, they weren't needed. The two Outsiders could barely stand. They'd been beaten excessively. One looked to be missing an ear.

She swallowed, trying not to watch them.

Finally, they were taken into separate rooms and Clarke was given a chart by a new guard.

As soon as they were restrained, she began to job.

\---

Sam was like a puppy that couldn't take a hint. Every morning when her shift began, she stood waiting by the Grounder's door. 

On the second day, after hours of him yammering on, she'd had enough.

"Dude, seriously. Don't you have work to do?"

He smirked. "Nothing more important than you."

She groaned at the cliché line. "Well I have to check on the big guy. So... You know... Leave."

Closing the door behind her, she groaned, trying to control herself enough to not go out and punch the asshole.

The Grounder stared at her, his dark eyes full of anger as she leaned against the door.

"I wonder if you Grounder men are just as annoying as the ones we have around here," she said pointlessly. It wasn't as if he could talk through his gag.

She moved towards the chair in the opposing corner, trying to ignore his gaze as she dragged it towards his bed. 

"My brother almost shit himself when he found out I went in your room," she mentioned, looking around. "He's a bit overprotective."

The anger didn't leave the Grounder's eyes, but it did give way slightly to curiosity. 

"Do you have any brothers? Or sisters?"

She waited for a moment. After a few long seconds, he shook his head.

Octavia grinned at the response. "An only child, huh? Lucky you." He snorted, chomping awkwardly at the strip of leather between his teeth. "That's so you won't break your teeth, or bite your tongue, and drown in your blood," she noted, shifting awkwardly in her chair. He looked at her sharply. "Clarke will have to declare you fit to take the Red, today."

They say in silence for a few moments, but then suddenly the door opened and Sam strode in.

Smirking at Lincoln, he shut the door and locked it behind him.

Octavia looked through the window and noted that another guard, one she didn't recognize, was standing outside.

Sam reached into his belt and pulled out a baton. "So my buddy is going to watch the door and make sure Cage doesn't come in. Let's have some fun."

"What?" Octavia blanched. "You have to be kidding me."

The boy rounded the prisoner, grinning down at him. "You spit in my face yesterday, dog. Time to see how stupid that was."

"Sam, _stop_ ," Octavia snapped. "He's going to get injected today. He won't pass inspection if you do this, and it'll be my ass on the line!"

"God, O, calm down. Look at him. The little scamp was struggling. Tried to bite you. You did what you had to do to be safe." The tone was coy, and his eyes glittered with amusement.

"This isn't happening," she protested, already moving to stop him.

Sam drew back his baton and brought it harshly onto the Grounder's ribs. The man grunted, but didn't show any other reaction.

"Stop," she growled, reaching out and grabbing the boy's wrist.

Same reacted, throwing her back into the wall. "Just sit back and watch, O. It's not like he can do anything."

Her gaze moved between the two, shifting between the Outsider's cool glare and Sam's manic grin.

He thrust down his baton again, this time resulting in a _crack_ that made her flinch.

"That's enough," she snarled, grabbing his shoulder and shoving him away.

"Oh, is it?" Sam asked, dropping the baton and moving instead to grip her shoulders, shoving her against the wall.

Behind them, the Grounder began to struggle against his bindings, growling and snarling beneath his gag.

"Listen to him," Sam smirked, pressing his body further against hers in a way that made her shutter. "Just like a fucking animal."

Just as his arms began to trail lower, a _snap_ resounded through the room. Octavia used the flinch it earned the boy to slam her foot into his insole, shoving him away from her.

The Grounder reached around him, wrapping his bicep around Sam's skinny throat and bringing him down to his chest.

Octavia's eyes widened as she cried, "Let him go! They're going to execute you if you--"

The door slammed open and the guard that'd been outside rushed in, pressing a syringe into the Outsider's arm.

After a few moments of the three of them struggling, they finally managed to disentangle Sam.

"Psycho!" he cried at Octavia. "You could have killed me!"

"I pushed you away," she snarled. "Don't act like you were innocent."

The other guard finished reshackling the man, who was still conscious despite the sedative.

"Looks like he's ready for the Red," he muttered as he left.

Octavia swallowed as she looked at the Grounder, whose eyes were beginning to clear.

"You're lucky I don't report you," Sam snapped, rushing towards the door.

Once it was closed, Octavia sighed and sunk into her seat.

He was looking at her, eyes trailing up and down her body. Not in a sexual way. Evaluating. Assessing. It was almost... Clinical. 

"You were some type of doctor, weren't you?" she asked needlessly. She'd heard mentions of strange herbs in his groups' possessions. While they didn't know exactly which Outsider they belonged to, her money was on Big Boy, there.

Once he was satisfied that she was unharmed, he rolled her head away.

"You shouldn't have done that," she noted. "I can handle myself."

His jaw worked the leather between his teeth.

Acting while he was still somewhat sedated, she stood, hesitating only a second before removing the leather strap.

He glanced at her. After a moment, he said, "Men like that deserve worse than what I could give," he muttered.

She fell back into her chair, sighing. "Can't argue there."

"I was a healer," he said. "You were correct."

"I thought you were a soldier or something," Octavia admitted.

"We are all soldiers," he replied. "In some way."

"Octavia. That's... That's my name."

"Lincoln."

She nodded, and they lapsed into silence for the rest of her shift.

\---

Clarke had spent the entire day avoiding the Harvest Chamber. Avoiding the inevitable presence of the girl. Lockhart must have put her in the main room by now.

 _I'm not avoiding my duties to soothe my conscious,_ she finally resolved. 

Grabbing her clipboard, she began to look over all of the subjects. Evaluating them for over-exsanguination. Any injuries that they'd sustained, either by themselves or a guard. She did her best to avoid their faces.

But it was inevitable. Eventually, she came face to face with the girl.

Trying to focus on anything else but her mindless gaze, she couldn't help but notice the prisoner beside the girl muttering a strange word over and over against as she stared at her neighbor.

"Heda. Heda. Heda."

Clarke frowned, moving towards the other Grounder, trying to understand what he was saying. 

"Heda?" she asked.

Suddenly, a cage behind her clamored as its occupant slammed its fist against it. "Heda!" he growled.

The call was taken up. Nearly all of the prisoners began to chant the word over and over. Low. Quiet. Reverent.

The girl she had worked so hard to avoid looked up at the sound, her eyes finally gaining some clarity. Clarke tried. She tried so hard to look away.

But when the single tear dropped from the girl's eye, she couldn't help but mimic it.

It was so much easier to kill them when they were faceless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for how late this is. Only that I am a lazy sloth who enjoys sleep too much.


End file.
